


Telescope

by meaghann



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-13
Updated: 2016-06-02
Packaged: 2018-06-08 02:25:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6835207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meaghann/pseuds/meaghann
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phryne and Jack are missing each other in their own way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Somehow my text editor had the wrong version when I copied it to the site, but here is the correct one.

Are _you_ a telescope my darling? Can you see me across the vast distance between Melbourne and London? Are you even looking?

Phryne sighed, the party behind her forgotten as she gazed at the stars from the balcony of her parent’s house in the country. There had been one night on her and her father’s flight to England where he had gone to sleep early and she took her bedroll and lay out on the grass by the airfield and watched the night sky. It was so dark and the stars so clear, with the band of the Milky Way glowing strong, she could pick out galaxies and constellations marvelling at the distances involved. Here in England the view was a little muted from local light, but the quiet dark was preferable to the chatter and music behind her. Normally, a party with some dancing was just the thing to raise Phryne’s spirits, but tonight it reminded her just how much she missed a certain Melbourne policeman. He would have stood on the edge of the frolicking, watching her and enjoying her energy, knowing that at the end of the evening they would be together in the peace after all the guests had gone. She longed for that so much it hurt. Sudden noise alerted her to the French door opening and she turned to see Roger Mallory a very handsome and flirtatious cricket player gliding out onto the balcony. He seemed to be practising his moves even now. She nodded pleasantly at him, but hoped he would take his leave quickly.

“Mister Mallory, lovely to see you again.”

“Ah the alluring and beautiful Phryne. Are you hiding from me and my charms? And can I persuade you inside for a drink and a dance with me?”

Phryne could picture Jack Robinson’s eyebrows rising off his head at the oiliness and impertinence of the man and that made her grin to herself. “Despite your reputation as an accomplished dancer and charming company, I will have to refuse. I am enjoying the peace out here, and it is Miss Fisher, not Phryne.” 

He moved closer to her and tried an arm around her shoulders “Let me change your mind. I have many talents other than dancing and cricket.” 

“As I said, I must decline, surely there are plenty of pretty girls inside to entertain.”

“None of them have your renowned experience in the boudoir however, and that I really must sample.” He leered at her, and his hand moved to her chest while the other arm tried to turn her to meet his mouth.

With a swift move, Phryne had Roger’s hand pinned behind his back and she hissed in his ear. “I think you’ve had enough party this evening and you should make your apologies to my parents and leave. I’m in no mood for an octopus right now.”

“So only a society whore when it suits you. I’ll be sure to remember that in future. Miss Fisher.”

He glared at her, but left quickly enough, not bothering to make his farewells to anyone. Left alone in the darkness once more, Phryne turned her gaze back to the stars and sighed again. She would not let Roger Mallory ruin her evening, but she was afraid it was tainted at the least.

“Oh Jack I miss you so terribly.”


	2. Chapter 2

Jack sighed as he stood on the edge of the dark field gazing up at the sky. The vast blanket of stars reminded him sharply of Phryne and the odd case of the glowing murder victim. Her despair then had touched him deeply and he had come so close to sweeping her in his arms. He wished she was here at his side through this dreadful night. Behind him was the fluid chaos of the crime scene, with the very capable Hugh directing things. Hugh had certainly turned into a competent policeman, after several false starts, thought Jack.  
The discovery of the dead bodies of the Porter family had been by the delivery boy, with a parcel from the chemists. The young lad was used to knocking and then walking into the kitchen. When he saw the body of Mrs Porter lying in a pool of blood he fled to find a policeman. Constable Carlisle had phoned it in and requested Jack, saying that everyone in the house was dead and sounding shocked and a bit sick. The reality was as bad as could be. Thirteen people in all had been butchered, servants, children, even the family dog.

Just when Jack turned to go back to the house, a cry came from the garden shed at the back. Jack took off at a run and found Constable Peele, half in and out of the shed, waiting for him, but keeping an eye on whatever was inside.  
“Inspector, I found Mister Porter! He’s alive sir, and well, you should see for yourself.”

Jack squeezed past Peele and stared into the storage shed. Mister Porter was on his knees in the corner and he was soaked in blood, shivering and holding onto a large, stained butcher knife. He was muttering to himself and didn’t to take any notice of the policemen staring at him.

“Mister Porter? Can you hear me? I’m Inspector Robinson. Could you put down the knife? We can’t help you if you don’t.”

There was no response from the man in the corner. Jack whispered to Peele, “What’s his Christian name? Does anyone know?”

“Robert, sir” answered the constable, and Jack tried again.

“Robert, what happened here? Can you tell us?”  
Still, there was no answer, but eventually Robert Porter’s exhaustion took over and he slumped to one side, letting go of the knife and Jack and Constable Peele were able to secure the man. Constable Peele seemed shaken as they loaded him into the police van and Jack realized suddenly how young he was.

“Peele, are you alright? I know this was a lot to deal with tonight, but you did a fine job.”

“Sir, does he know what he did? Will he ever? I mean, it was such a horrible thing to do. Gawd, it just makes me ill to think of it.”

Jack put his hand on the young man’s shoulder, “He probably will never realize what he did. I suspect something is not right in his mind, and after we take him to the station I’ll fetch a doctor to examine him. Go home and get some rest Peele and get Lizzie to make you a hot drink. That lovely wife of yours will know what to do.”

Much later after the paperwork was finished and all the details for tomorrow were seen to, Jack dearly wished he could take his own advice and go to Wardlow for a comforting drink and some intelligent conversation with Phryne. As it was, he went home to his dark house and fell into bed, plagued by dreams of dead children and the shivering Robert Porter.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the long delay in getting on with this little tale. I have had a crazy time of life lately, but anyhow, here it is.

The silver bowl that sat on the hall table was piled high with visiting cards, invitations to posh events about town, and notes from friends inviting Phryne to country house weekends and parties. She sifted through the pile and one envelope stood out from the rest, with its plain typed label and the address that was from far away. She sat down at the dining table in her lovely yellow room with the sun pouring in and stared at the envelope where it leaned on the sugar bowl, while she sipped her coffee. Finally, she couldn’t wait any longer and sliced it open with her bread knife. A photograph fell out first; of a man and dog looking out at the ocean from a grassy bluff. There was a strong wind blowing when the picture was taken, as the man had his hand clamped tight on his hat and the dog’s fur was tufted up all over the place. Their backs were to the camera; consequently Phryne had no idea who they were, which frustrated her greatly, so she moved on to the enclosed letter. 

It was typed, not much help there, on standard plain white notepaper, and there was no signature. 

“Dear Miss Fisher,  
A friend recently come from Australia was telling me of the cases you have solved and I must admit to being greatly intrigued, but also needing your help. You, I think, are the one person most suited to solving this puzzle and I beg of you to read my account and consider coming out to the west coast of Canada. It is beautiful and full of wonderful places to discover so it would not be a wasted trip, even if my puzzle is not up to your standard. Back about three months ago, my aunt Patricia wrote to me from Toronto to say that Uncle Clark had passed away and she was coming out to Victoria to live and I could look forward to seeing her in a few weeks. Closer to the trip, we settled on the date and I agreed to meet her at the Black Ball boat dock. When the boat from the mainland arrived, Aunt Patricia wasn’t on it, and I phoned the ferry office to inquire. They knew nothing of a Patricia Fargas, and neither did any of the hotels in Vancouver, or the Canadian National Railway office in Vancouver. But by far the strangest part of the tale came from Toronto when my Uncle Clark telephoned me for the first time in my life. In fact I have no telephone and had to receive the call in my landlady’s sitting room. Uncle Clark’s news was that Aunt Patricia had disappeared and he wondered if she had been in touch with me. Since I had never had occasion to talk to either of them much in my life, I was quite surprised that he would even telephone me at all. The police here have been no help at all, saying that it is a matter for the Toronto police, but I am suspicious of the entire affair. Where is my aunt and why did she say Uncle Clark is dead when he is clearly not? I am begging for your help, as I know no one here that I trust with this matter. I will pay you of course, just tell me how much. I have some means available to me.

Yours,  
A troubled nephew  
Who can be reached at the Randolph, Room 317, just ask on arrival.”

Phryne was stumped as to what the photograph had to with the letter, but it was obvious from the letter that the writer was a man who dealt best face to face, and didn’t want to confuse things talking on the telephone even if that worked properly as it so often didn’t, but telegrams and letters failed to convey proper meaning more often than not, so Phryne decided on a whim, to take the case. She could use this possible case as an excuse to fly in the Graf Zeppelin blimp which was an exciting prospect. She had never flown in a rigid airship before, so set her butler to getting tickets and timetables ready. The packing and trip to Germany went by in a blur and Phryne found herself on the blimp in a lovely cabin of her own. The trip was a marvelous silliness of expensive extravagance but Phryne knew it was a once in a lifetime happening. She toured every inch of the blimp and pestered the captain to show her the workings, poked around the crew areas and flirted with a handsome German officer; even the sight of the Russian mountains wasn’t enough to alleviate her restlessness. She wanted desperately to be sharing this trip with Jack. She knew he would love the views and would have told her the history of the areas they passed over. The stay in Tokyo was wonderfully exciting, but the shopping and food just added to her desire for someone at her side to show all this colour and noise to. Finally the blimp made its way to its dock in California and Phryne was on a train north as fast as she could manage. Then a ship to Vancouver Island, all the while marveling at the views spread out before her. Standing at the railing of the ferry boat, she spotted a pod of killer whales nearby and shrieked with excitement, causing a well-dressed couple to look at her askance. She grinned impishly, realizing that if Jack was there he would have given that long suffering look that she loved so dearly.


End file.
